She looked directly into his pale eyes.
"But you don't understand what happens when people decide not to bargain away someone else's freedom."
Crane's expression hardened.
He struck the table with his cane.
"You would do well to remember your position."
Ren did not flinch.
She had spent five years learning how to remain composed while men spoke over her.
But there was a difference now.
She no longer believed their words defined her.
"My position," she answered, "is that you've kidnapped a woman because you're frightened of a map."
Crane stared.
Then, unexpectedly, he laughed.
"You have more of your grandmother in you than I expected."
Ren felt a flicker of something.
The comment was revealing.
He had known her grandmother.
Perhaps more closely than anyone admitted.
She leaned forward.
"Then you remember what she told you."
Crane's smile faded.
Ren did not know exactly what her grandmother had said to him.
But she knew the old woman had argued with contractors over the river for years.
Crane stared.
Then he turned away.
"Keep her here."
He looked toward the man guarding the door.
"No visitors. No unnecessary conversation."
Then he left.
Ren waited until his footsteps faded.
She lowered her head.
Beneath the hem of her dress, the small bone needle remained hidden.
And she began planning her next move.
The freight station had once served wagons transporting ore from the abandoned silver workings.
Its western wall backed against a narrow shelf of rock.
A person could not see that shelf from the main road.
But Ren remembered it.
As a girl, she and her cousin had climbed there to gather seed pods and watch hawks circling above the canyon.
The path began near a cluster of mesquite.
The station's rear storage door opened toward the same wall.
Ren had noticed that the door's lower hinge was loose.
She also noticed that the guards disliked the heat.
By late afternoon, the station had become stifling.
The men complained about the stove.
They drank heavily from their water flasks.
And the youngest guard repeatedly opened the rear storage door to let in cooler air.
Ren waited.
When he passed, she asked for a second cup of water.
He grumbled.
Then filled it.
She thanked him.
He looked surprised.
"You're mighty polite for a prisoner."
Ren smiled faintly.
"My grandmother taught me manners."
He laughed.
"Well, that won't help you much."
She lowered her eyes.
Perhaps he believed her frightened.
Perhaps he believed her too sheltered to understand danger.
Either way, he became careless.
When he turned toward the stove, Ren quietly slipped the small wooden cup from the table.
She placed it beneath the loosened hinge.
Then returned to her chair.
Several minutes later, a gust of wind pushed the storage door open.
The hinge shifted against the cup.
The door jammed.
The guard cursed.
He approached.
Tried to force it closed.
The wood resisted.
He called for another man.